I've always loved reading books, and it was when I was at Primary School that I fancied doing some writing myself. I remember a teacher asking all us kids to write stories for a newspaper. We were all given sections to write, mine being the sports page, in particular football. I'd been to my first football match the Saturday before, and remembered vividly how the course of the match went. I wrote a piece on this myself, but the teacher wouldn't believe I hadn't copied it from somewhere. More fool her, I thought with some satisfaction.
At senior school during the last couple I suffered from adolescent maladies, and started writing poetry, mostly about girls I wanted to date and was to frightened to ask out, and later about girls I did date, and fell out with, or rows I had with girls I dated. Pretty silly really, but it helped me get over my hurt.
Then when I got married and had a child, I used to make up short stories to read to my daughter when she went to bed. They may not have been much good, but my daughter seemed to like them and wanted them told over an over again.
Then as I got older, as well as reading, I began to think about writing a novel myself, just to see if I had the stamina to do it. The book was called Bullies, and was about a young boy's life of being bullied at home and at school and work, and how he deals with it. It took me about a year to write it long hand, and another year to type it up on an old manual type-writer. It probably isn't much good, but it proved I could do it, and hopefully practice makes perfect.
At senior school during the last couple I suffered from adolescent maladies, and started writing poetry, mostly about girls I wanted to date and was to frightened to ask out, and later about girls I did date, and fell out with, or rows I had with girls I dated. Pretty silly really, but it helped me get over my hurt.
Then when I got married and had a child, I used to make up short stories to read to my daughter when she went to bed. They may not have been much good, but my daughter seemed to like them and wanted them told over an over again.
Then as I got older, as well as reading, I began to think about writing a novel myself, just to see if I had the stamina to do it. The book was called Bullies, and was about a young boy's life of being bullied at home and at school and work, and how he deals with it. It took me about a year to write it long hand, and another year to type it up on an old manual type-writer. It probably isn't much good, but it proved I could do it, and hopefully practice makes perfect.